Things That Make Me Forget
by 3iris
Summary: This is a short series in Booth's POV of various things that get him thinking about his relationship with Brennan - the way it is, the way he wants it to be, and the little truths that seem to slip his mind a little too easily.
1. Chapter 1

"What are you doing here, Booth?" She flung the door open, glaring at me, and ranting about waking up the neighbors. "You didn't answer your phone. I was worried."

"It's midnight. I was sleeping. Why aren't you?"

"I would be, if you would have answered your phone and let me know you were alright. I would have said goodnight, and went back to bed. But no, you have to insist on going about your business as usual, pretending there's not a lunatic out there issuing death threats, refusing to stay with friends..."

"I can take care of myself, Booth." I hate it when she reminds me of this, especially when she is standing in there half dressed, with rumpled hair and sleepy eyes.

"That's great, if it were necessary, which it isn't, because you have me." It was then I realized I must have said something wrong, because she was suddenly in my space, jabbing a finger in my chest to punctuate her words, forcing me to take a step back.

"If you want something to take care of, get a girlfriend or a dog." I knew I should be paying attention, but I was suddenly aware that she was wearing only a shirt, a big shirt - no bra, long bare toned legs - but still just a shirt. I wondered if she realized we were in the hall now. I guess she wasn't as worried about her neighbors as I thought. "If you don't see us as equals, I don't know how we can stay partners."

I forced my eyes, and my thoughts, back to her face and the conversation. "Come on, Bones. We are equals. I look out for you. You look out for me. I help you. You..." I completely lost my train of thought, as my brain struggled over a new realization. I let my eyes briefly wander downward to confirm my suspicions. _Oh, hell. This can't be good._ I wondered if I actually said that out loud, or if she could hear my heart pounding.

"Booth, I don't need you nearly as much as you think I do." She took a step back. Either she was going to slam the door in my face, sealing the deal on having the last word, or she was finally awake enough to remember what she was wearing.

I took a step forward, leaning against the door frame, preventing the first scenario. I suddenly needed to know the why behind the second scenario. I felt a warmth starting in my heart and spreading through my body. I was really looking forward to her explanation.

"Bones, why are you wearing my shirt?"

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**1. You wearing my shirt to bed makes me forget that we don't actually sleep together, even though we want to.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was planning on making each chapter of this story stand alone, but I had an idea after I posted chapter 1. So this is a continuation of chapter 1. The other chapters will...more than likely...be stand alone chapters. I have four additional 'themes' planned after this one. **

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"Bones, why are you wearing my shirt?"

She looked down reluctantly. Apparently, she didn't believe me, and had to confirm it for herself. I saw her swallow. She rubbed her hands down the sides of her . . . my shirt self-consciously. This was going to be interesting.

"This?" Her voice cracked a bit, but I have to give her credit for making eye contact. "This is not your shirt." _Nice try, Bones. I know it's mine. You're going to have to do better than that._ I was careful not to say this out loud, because I definitely didn't _mind_ her wearing my shirt, I just wanted to know _why_ she wanted to wear my shirt. She was usually much better at thinking on her feet.

"Somebody left a shirt, exactly like my favorite white and gray luxury striped Brooks Brothers dress shirt with white collar and white french cuffs, at your house?"

"It is theoretically possible." She crossed her arms across her chest stubbornly, and smiled at me, knowing she was beat.

I couldn't help but smile back. She was obviously embarrassed, and blushing. I didn't know Bones was capable of being embarrassed, and I am positive I have never seen her blush. I elbowed her teasingly. "Come on, Bones. Where'd you get my favorite shirt?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and I saw something flicker across her eyes. Her whole demeanor had changed. A quiet sadness had replaced the stubborn playfullness that I had witnessed moments before. "I should get changed."

I didn't know if that was an invitation for me to leave, or if she wanted to come back out and talk. I did know one thing, I wasn't going to leave without finding out what brought about the sudden change. Or, did I just not want to leave her alone when I knew she may be in danger. Or maybe I just didn't want her to take off my shirt.

"Let's just talk. I won't stay long." She didn't waste any time launching into an explanation that left me riddled with guilt, and oddly, had my chest swelling with pride.

"When you were gone, when I thought you were dead, I didn't know what to do with myself when I wasn't working. I went to your place. I fed your fish. I watched your television. I cooked myself dinner in your kitchen. I couldn't face the truth, or as it turns out, the lie, so I came here where I could feel you all around me." She quickly wiped a tear away. "I found a shirt that smelled like you, so I wore it. I slept in your bed. It was comforting to feel your presence and be able to forget how I was going to have to face everything alone. It made me forget how scared I was."

I didn't have any words that would take away the pain of the memories that she was carrying. I pulled her close and held her, thinking that if she were taken away, I would need a lot more than a few possessions and an article of clothing to keep it together.

"I thought about returning it, but I would have found that extremely uncomfortable." Her smile was back, along with a slight blush.

"So why are you wearing my shirt now?"

"I started thinking about the threats and I couldn't sleep. I put your shirt on, and I slept. I guess some objects really do have magical powers." Her eyes sparkled when she said it, and I was pretty sure I was the one being teased now. That's what I love about Bones. You ask a simple question, and you get an honest answer.

"You keep the shirt. Maybe someday you won't need it anymore."

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**2. When you act all tough and self sufficient all the time, it makes me forget that you get scared like the rest of us.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Bones. Ready for lunch?" I watched her latest boy toy standing next to her on the platform, wondering what was so special about this one. I tried to be impartial when I sized him up. What did she see in him that made him worthy of taking up her valued time, and since when does she allow last night's date on the platform?

"No, Booth, I'm working."

"It looks to me like you are entertaining." I looked at her friend, and then back to her, raising my eyebrows, waiting for an introduction, which was apparently not going to happen. Maybe I am taking the wrong approach. "So, Bones, who is your friend?" I've learned the direct approach is always best with Bones.

"Grant Armstrong, Special Agent Seeley Booth."

Grant Armstrong stuck out his hand uncertainly. "Nice to meet you. I heard a lot about you last night." He was waiting for a handshake, which I ignored. I am not usually blatantly rude to strangers, but he was really starting to bother me.

Bones turned to Grant Armstrong and rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't have told him that."

I am going to take the eye rolling as a good sign. "You talk about me on your first dates? What do you talk about?"

"I explain to them that you are my work partner, and I tell them how you always try to interfere in my personal life. I tell them that you really need to butt out."

"Actually, she told me that she enjoyed working with you very much. She told me that she couldn't do the job she does without you. She actually spoke very highly of you." Apparently, Grant Armstrong was a suck up. He must be under the impression that Bones actually values my opinion of the men she dates. Did he think it was necessary for me to approve of him? I found the idea of him trying to win my approval hilarious. I'm sure the idea was not winning any points from Bones either.

"Grant, I really need to get back to work. I'll probably be late tonight, so I will call you this weekend." Grant Armstrong kissed her on the cheek, and made another attempt at a handshake. He left the platform looking not quite as optimistic as when I got there. It was just another day on the job, and my work here was almost done.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Bones. You could have told me that you were seeing someone." I stood behind her as she turned her attention back to looking at the bones on the table in front of her.

"I am not embarrassed, Booth. There is just nothing to talk about yet." She kept her eyes on her work, not giving me the satisfaction of reminding her about her poor judgement in men.

"Just because he is not as smart as some of the other ones..."

"You have only just met him. You barely said 'Hello' to each other. Based on that, how can you possibly determine his intelligence, or lack there of."

"Defensive, Bones. I'm sure he has a very nice personality." I turned away so she wouldn't hear me mumble under my breath. I wanted to get her thinking, not provoke her to kick my ass. "The short, chubby ones usually do."

She finally turned from the examination table, and faced me. She was still calm. That was a good sign. "You are purposely making him sound inadequate. He is of average height and weight, and he is not unintelligent."

"Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. He is average and not stupid. That sounds much better than what I said. Apparently, I am not the only one who thinks he's not good enough for you."

"I think he likes you better than me anyway." And she was back again.

"So, how about that lunch, Bones?"

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**3. You dating other guys makes me forget I am not supposed to be jealous.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Daddy, did you kiss that lady you brought to dinner last night?"

I remember not so long ago tucking him in with a bedtime story, or reading a page out of our favorite book. Now, I was expected to give him a status report on my love life, or lack of. "Yes, Parker. I kissed her goodnight at the end of our date."

"Why?"

"Because that's how you let someone know you had a good time, that you enjoyed being with them." I sat down on the edge of his bed, and waited for him to snuggle under his covers. Instead he sat up in bed, looking at me like I didn't know what I was talking about.

"I thought you kissed somebody because you loved them."

I am a terrible father. "That too, Parker."

"But you don't love her, right?"

"No, she's not right for me, but sometimes you don't know that right away. With your mom, I felt it right away. I knew something special was going to come out of it."

He grinned at me. "Me, right?"

"Yep."

"You loved mom, and you don't kiss her anymore."

"No, not any more, but we used to kiss all the time." He pulled a face. I could tell he was intrigued. Eight year old boys liked talking about kissing the same way they liked to talk about worms and bugs. "Why are you asking? Is there someone you want to plant one on?"

"Dad!"

"Because if you do, you just need to turn on the old Booth charm. Nobody can resist it."

"That's gross. Do you kiss Dr. Bones?"

"No, Parker."

"Why? Mom says you love Dr. Bones, just like she loves Captain Fantastic. Mom says that's why you and she don't kiss no more."

"Bones and I are just friends. Friends don't kiss like that. Do you kiss your friends?"

"No, but my friends are boys. You need boy friends so you don't have to worry about if you should kiss them all the time."

"I'm not worried about it, Parker. In fact, you want to know a secret?" Parker shook his head enthusiastically. He loved secrets. "Dr. Bones has kissed me."

Parker's eyes went wide, and he giggled. "Really?"

"Yep, three times."

"Three times! I guess she thinks you are more than just friends. Why did she kiss you?"

"Well, the first time was an accident. I put my hand over her coffee cup so she wouldn't burn herself, and she kissed my hand."

He laughed at me. "Dad, that wasn't a kiss. That doesn't count."

Kids can be cruel. "OK, the second time, she kissed me on the cheek, to say thank you for helping her family."

He rolled his eyes. "That's nice."

I obviously was not impressing him. "Last Christmas, she kissed me under the mistletoe."

"On the lips?" He wrinkled up his nose. This was the reaction I was waiting for.

"Yep, for five steamboats, maybe more." Is this how pathetic I've become?

"What's a steamboat?"

"You know, one steamboat, two steamboat..."

"Oh, kind of like a mississippi.... one mississippi, two mississippi... Five? That's a long time. But it was mistletoe, she had to kiss you if you were standing under it. That's the rules."

Like I said, kids can be cruel, but I conceded his point. None of them really counted. I made him get under his covers, and I tucked him in, kissing him on the forehead.

"Dad, if you like Dr. Bones, why don't you just kiss her for real? Or, why don't you just tell her you love her, and then maybe she will kiss you for real next time."

"I will keep that in mind, Parker, but for now, let's keep this between us, OK?"

"Sure, Dad. Just remember, they can't resist the old Booth charm."

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**4. When my eight year old has to remind me of how simple things really are, it makes me forget why I've made them so complicated.**


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't believe you are sleeping with one of my students, Booth, and not even one of the brighter ones." She had her head turned, and was looking out her window, directing her words to the cars that were passing by.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Bones." But in the pit of my stomach, I had a sick feeling that I did. "I don't know any of your students."

"Hilary. . . The woman that answered your door in her underwear last night. . ."

"You were at my place last night?" If I sounded a little startled by that, I was. I had to make a conscious effort to lower my voice to a more respectable tone.

"She told me you were sleeping."

"She got up and answered my door?" I vaguely remembered the knocking at the door, and wondering briefly where the person that was in my bed earlier went, and going back to sleep after berating myself for another bad decision.

"No, she told me that she was up anyway. She said sex makes her hungry. She offered me a sandwich."

"A sandwich?" I was aware that I was repeating everything she said. I couldn't stop. My mind was having trouble processing the information she was giving me. "You didn't actually. . . ?"

"I don't think you are paying attention, Booth. She is my student. I think it would be crossing a line to have a snack with my student who is basking in the afterglow of having sex with my partner."

"Basking? You really think she was basking?" I couldn't help grinning. Was I grinning at the idea of Hilary enjoying it, or Bones just assuming Hilary had enjoyed it?

"Basking in the idea of improving her standing in my class."

"Wait a minute. Are you insinuating that the only reason she slept with me was to get a better grade?"

"Not a better grade, more recognition."

"From you?"

"Yes."

Talking to the back of Bones' head was a lot like talking to her face to face. You never knew what she was getting at. "For being with me?"

"Yes, Booth. It is very competitive at their level. They will do anything to make their work more visible."

"Whatever, Bones. She never even told me she was your student."

"She would expect you to mention your evening to me."

"Why would I do that?" My grip on the steering wheel was becoming painful.

"You wouldn't. I never said it was a good plan. I told you she's not very bright."

I swallowed hard and pretended we weren't having this conversation. Maybe she would let it drop. Even I didn't believe that. The only thing I could do was change the subject. "It must have been after midnight. Why did you come by?"

"Your phone was busy. I needed to talk to you."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For having sex with my student, or for being too busy to talk to me?" She still wasn't looking at me as we pulled into the parking lot. I put the truck in park, and sat staring out the windshield at the concrete wall in front of me. Two could play this game.

"For whichever one you are mad at me for. I'm sorry, OK." Sometimes, whatever this unspoken thing between us is, is exhausting. I had an uneasy feeling that I had let her down in some way. I had not been there for her because I had my attention focused on this person that was nothing more than a random diversion, a substitute for something that was lacking from my life. "Do you still want to talk?"

She opened the door, finally turning to look at me as she closed the door. "Not really. I need to get back to work." She started to leave, then turned and knocked on the window. I rolled it down, and she leaned in, resting her forearms on the window frame. "It gets easier. . . separating what's real from what's not."

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**5. When I decide to satisfy a few biological urges of my own, it makes me forget that I am not as good as compartmentalizing as you are.**

**..........****.**

A/N: I know. Last chapter was all cute and fluffy and Parkery...and then this. I had a point to make. Sorry if I had to have him 'be' with someone else to make my point. I don't like it either. This series has a mind of it's own. I'm just typing it. You can still review though, I will pass it on.... ;D


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is a follow up to Ch.5. I am trying to keep the chapters short, but I hate leaving a story with that unfinished feeling. I think there is only one more (unrelated) chapter left after this one, unless I get inspired with another 'truth' between now and then.**

**I tried to make this...less depressing, but I must be in a Bones funk this week. I think I might need to be rejuvenated with a new episode...or two. I just watched The Man In the SUV (???) and it helped a little. Those looks at the end...wow!**

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I had been sitting in her living room waiting for her to get home for the better part of two hours. I was just about to leave when I heard the key scrape in her lock.

"Booth, what are you doing here?" She dropped her keys on the floor, and nearly dropped the bag of groceries she was carrying.

I met her at the door, swiping the bag from her arms as she bent over to pick up her keys. I peeked into the top of the bag. "So, you do actually eat without me reminding you."

"What are you doing here?" She turned toward the kitchen, and I followed, setting the bag on the counter. "That key is for emergencies."

"Sorry. You weren't answering your phone, so I called Angela. She said you had already left. I remembered that you wanted to talk about something this morning, so I brought us carry out."

"How long have you been here?" I looked at the mess of empty cartons and beer bottles she had noticed on her living room table.

"A while. . . I decided you probably were not coming home, so I tried to eat the evidence. I was just getting ready to clean up and head out, but now that you are back, we can talk."

"I really don't feel like talking, Booth. It wasn't important." I considered it a good sign that she hadn't kicked me out yet, so I sat back down on the sofa, clearing the clutter off the table while she flitted around the kitchen putting things away.

"It must have seemed fairly important last night for you to show up at my place after midnight, especially when you had dinner plans of your own, but that's fine. If you don't want to talk, I will."

"You're not seeing Hilary tonight?"

I knew she would bring it up eventually. "You have pretty much ruined things with her, Bones, as well as just about every other member of the female race." She just looked at me. I used to be better at this, but as far as I could tell, she was either trying to decipher a hidden meaning out of my words, or she was angry and not listening to me at all. The way she was squinting at me, making that cute line appear between her eyebrows, did not give me enough information to decide which it was. She's been looking at me like that a lot lately. "I wouldn't have seen her again anyway."

"Why?" She sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa, and I realized absently that she couldn't have picked a seat further away from me if she tried.

"Because, last night, I proved to myself that when you find something real, everything else is just a poor substitute." I could tell that I finally had her attention. I was hoping she was starting to see where I was going with this, because I wasn't really sure myself.

Should I tell her that I made a decision this morning when I woke up? Probably. Should I tell her that the decision I made was that she was going to be the next person that I woke up next to in my bed, regardless of how long I have to wait to get her there? Probably not. Should I tell her that I want it to be as soon as possible, now that I have everything figured out? Considering she practically caught me in the act with another woman less than 24 hours ago, most definitely not.

"Meaningless." It was barely a whisper, and she was looking down at her hands. I almost missed it with all of the thoughts spinning around in my head. "They don't mean anything, not really. It's not fair, to them, or to us." She finally looked up at me. "That's why I came to your house last night. I was pissed, at you, for putting these conflicting ideas in my head. It never used to bother me, but now, I hear your voice lecturing me on becoming one, and everybody having somebody, and monogamy and making love, and I see you watching me like you are disappointed in me, and. . . it is all very distracting." She finished with a small smile, but she didn't look away. She was waiting for me to validate what she just admitted.

I moved closer to her, and tugged her down from the arm of the sofa so she was sitting next to me. "You walked out on your date last night." She didn't say anything, but I knew I was right. That's what freaked her out. "I wish last night never happened. I decided this morning that I was not going to wake up feeling that way again. What does that mean to you?"

"I don't know. It means that we haven't found the right person yet."

She looked so scared, I had to laugh. I draped my arm across her shoulder, and she leaned her head against me. "Or, maybe, it just means we are not quite ready to admit to ourselves that we may have found the right one. Not quite, but soon."

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**6. When everything is seeming hopeless, and eventually seems like it is taking a long time, it makes me forget that the really good things are worth waiting for.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Any guesses where the inspiration for this one came from? It's a long, well a longer one, and it's also the last chapter. Thanks for reading everybody!

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I created this hell for myself, now I have to live in it. I am still not sure what possessed me to make me think I could do this without losing a little bit, OK, a lot, of my dignity. Now I am laying here, feeling miserable, hoping she doesn't call me on my . . . indiscretion that is pressed up against her bare hip.

I was so wrapped up in the lies that I told, and the justifications that I made, that it was the truth to me. She was just my partner. There is no reason I shouldn't be able to offer a little bit of my spare body heat to keep my partner from freezing to death. Why should I feel guilty about that? Aside from the fact that my body presently wasn't really offering that much warmth. All of my blood flow has been redirected to another region of my body. I don't think she has noticed what this situation was doing to me, not yet anyway.

The rental car had broke down miles from our destination. None of this would have happened if it wasn't so damned cold out in the first place. Global warming, right, not in Minnesota, in January. She blamed it on me, of course, for picking out the wrong car, and chose to ignore the more logical explanation. The temperature had been hovering all day on the wrong side of zero, and only getting colder as night fell. She was right about the car being a piece of junk. The fuel line froze up solid, leaving us parked on the shoulder of a deserted dirt road. And, as expected, when your car gives up on a deserted dirt road, the cell phones don't work either. We were stuck. We could have died out there.

So, this was a better choice than death, right? A cabin, unfortunately, a cabin with no working furnace, but it did have a fireplace, and that's what we needed, a fire. A fire would feel great after the mile long hike through snow and ice and freezing rain that stung as the frozen crystals pelted our faces. It would warm us right up, get our limbs working again, and dry out our crispy, frozen clothing. A fire would be great, if there was dry wood, or matches.

Bones was pale and shivering. Her hair was tangled with sleet and ice pellets, and everything she was wearing was soaking wet. She stopped harassing me about my mistakes and my lack of respect for the elements half way to the cabin. That's when I started to worry about her. I watched her staring at the empty fireplace, and saw her blue lips quivering. She was bouncing in place stiffly, trying to create some body heat out of nothing.

I searched the nearly empty cabin for whatever I could find that would help our situation. I found clean sheets and blankets, some towels, and a down filled comforter that's cleanliness was questionable. At this point, the need for warmth surpassed my fear of microscopic organisms and who knew what else that may have been taking up residence in it. I gave the bare mattress on the bed a few good whacks to check out it's dust content, and quickly covered it with a sheet, coughing at the dust particles thickening the air.

"Come on, Bones. You need to get out of those wet clothes." I dragged her by the hand to the bed, where I started removing the cold frozen layers one by one.

"Bbbooth. Just ggive me a bbblanket. I'll be fffine."

"Then your clothes will thaw out onto the blanket, and you will just have one more cold, wet layer on." I looked at her coat as I pulled it off her. "You did know that we were going to be in Minnesota and not Florida, right?" I threw the flimsy coat on the floor, and quickly rid her of her boots, followed by her pants and socks, and then her sweater. Her skin was freezing cold to the touch and covered with chill bumps. I made a last ditch effort to have her remove her underwear herself. I hoped it come through as calm and jokey, not pleading and desperate. "Come on, Bones, off with the rest of it, and into bed." I was finding myself completely spell bound, at the most inappropriate of times. Although I had the best of intentions, and I knew what I was doing was necessary, a little voice in the back of my mind was screaming that it was crossing a line. This was too much of what I wanted, and not enough of her willingly consenting.

I was pretty sure as I said it that her frozen fingers and limbs would not comply. I don't even think she processed my request. She stood there practically naked, shivering violently. In a determined haste, I hooked my thumbs in the sides of her panties, and pulled them down to her ankles, lifting her feet one at a time to help her step out of them. I reached behind her and unfastened her bra, dragging it down her arms, and tossing it into the wet pile. I guided her down onto the mattress, and she immediately turned to her side and curled up in a ball. I piled on the dry blankets and towels and topped it off with the comforter. She buried her face under the covers, breathing in the warmth, but tremors were still racking her body.

I stood there for a moment, having an internal debate over my motives. Was I considering this because her body temperature was dangerously low, and sharing some of my body's heat could help warm her faster, or did I just want to have a damn good excuse to feel her naked body pressed against mine. As I was undressing, I figured that since I was standing here thinking about her naked body, it was more than likely a little bit of both. I thought to myself, as I slid in bed next to her, and wrapped my arms around her, that I was definitely going to hell for this.

I pulled her trembling body tightly against me, her back held tightly against my chest. I curved my body around hers. The top of her head fit perfectly under my chin, her cheek resting against my shoulder. Every nerve ending was responding to her being so close, invading all of my senses. Something that felt this good, had to be a sin.

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**7. When I start to believe my own excuses and justifications, it makes me forget that it is a sin to lie, even if it is yourself you are lying to.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I know I said this was complete, but I couldn't resist writing a follow up to Chapter 7.**

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It didn't take as long as I thought for her shivering to stop, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from her. I pulled the covers around us tightly, tucking us in and sealing out all the cold air from the room. I buried my face in her hair and closed my eyes. Of course, my justification for this was keeping my face warm. My nose was really cold, and nobody likes breathing in all that cold air when the rest of you is so deliciously warm. It did not have anything to do with the way her hair smelled, or the texture of her hair brushing my face, or the way I could hear her steady breathing from this distance. It was definitely not any of those things.

I didn't want to let her go. If I did, all of this shared body heat would be wasted. So I held on to her, and I tried not to focus on each point of contact. I did not think about all the spots where the backs of her legs touched the front of mine. I did not think about her bare ass pressed against a certain part of my anatomy that I was currently imposing a great deal of effort to keep from repeating another potentially embarrassing display. Thinking about that would definitely not be a good idea. I did not think about the soft flesh and firm muscles that rested under my hand, which was laying across her belly, holding her close to me. I did not think about her small frame pressed up against my chest, or about her cheek resting on my shoulder. I've never wondered what any of that would feel like, and I am not thinking about it right now.

I felt her sigh deeply, not heard, felt. I felt her shoulders rise, and the vibration against my chest. She then shifted her weight against me. I assumed she was trying to find a more comfortable position, if such a thing existed. I swallowed hard and held my breath, waiting for her to settle.

I was not oblivious to the fact that this would soon end, and when it did, it would end fast, like a band-aid being ripped from a wound. As soon as she realized our circumstances, she would be out of my arms and out of the bed in seconds. So I kept holding my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Her foot slid down the length of my leg, and wiggled its way between my calves, finding it's new resting place. She found my hand that was resting on her stomach and entwined her fingers with mine, pulling both our hands up to tuck under her chin, hugging it to her, and pressing the rest of her body even closer to mine. My forearm, which I would not usually consider one of the more sensitive parts of my body, was now sandwiched between her breasts. Alarms sounded, and lines of communications opened from my forearm to my brain, then back to the distant part of me that had been cooperating, albeit hesitantly, until now.

I slowly released my breath, thinking about how cold it was outside, how cold it would be to redress myself in the wet clothes that still lay in a frozen heap on the floor, how cold it would be to take a cold shower, and step out of it into the cold heatless cabin. It was not working. It just brought my attention back to her warm body. She carelessly slept through all of this, the rhythm of her breathing never changing.

Some time later, feeling drugged by the intoxicating assault on my senses, I must have dozed off. I didn't think I would sleep a wink. Who knew you could sleep through that kind of emotional and physical torture? I was surprised that I slept like a baby, so maybe torture was really not the right word for what I was feeling.

I didn't dare to open my eyes yet, but I could feel the change. Surprisingly what I noticed first, and frankly, what scared me the most, was her change in breathing. It was no longer even and rhythmic. I had to listen intently to detect if she was breathing at all. Second, she was no longer melted against me in all the right places. The points of contact had definitely changed. Third, we had changed positions during the night, and she had definitely taken the initiative in realigning our bodies. I know she made the move this time, because even in my sleep, there is no way in hell I would have risked hauling her on top of me and into our current position.

Her upper body was half on top of mine, our legs dangerously entwined. Her arm was draped lazily across my chest, and her hand was tangled in my hair. I could feel her breath against my chest, and her hair tickling my shoulder. Apparently, Bones was a cuddler. I probably would not be teasing her about it any time soon, but the thought made me smile.

Then I felt her tense. "Booth, I know you are awake." I thought I detected a slight huskiness to her voice, but I was probably wrong. It was more than likely repressed hostility. "Open your eyes." I would have but I was genuinely terrified. That is when I felt her hands run across my hair, actually not across it, through it. I felt her fingers lightly brush over my scalp, and I released the breath I had been holding. It came out a little more shakily than I would have liked.

I cautiously opened my eyes, finding her much closer than I expected. Her head was propped up on her hand and she was regarding me with very uncertain eyes. "Good morning." Dreading her reaction, I swallowed hard. "Are you going to kiss me or kick my ass?" My brain is usually the last thing to wake up in the morning, but she didn't have to hear me speak to make that discovery. Her stare was so intense, that I was feeling a little exposed. I think I actually squirmed under her. I didn't expect her to have to think about that question.

"Thank you, Booth" She leaned forward another two inches and kissed me on the cheek, lingering an extra few seconds before she pulled back, ripping her body away from mine and climbing over me to stand on the floor, taking our blankets with her. "I'm going to get dressed and try the phones again."

I grabbed her arm. "You don't really want to do that. It's cold out there."

"What do you suggest then? Staying in bed until the rescue party shows up?" She gathered the blankets around her, covering herself up more completely, and turned around to face me again. There was a definite twinkle in her eyes.

If I didn't know better, I would think she was enjoying my discomfort. "That would definitely be the safest thing to do." I ventured one of my famous smiles that she could never seem to resist.

"That would be the most logical course of action." She raised her eyebrows and actually smiled back. I felt a little of my tension melt away as she climbed back in bed, and slipped into my open arms.

..........

**8. When I spend everyday with her, or thinking about her, it makes me forget that I don't know as much about her as I think I do.**


End file.
